10: Heaven & Hell

I had known that Kasim al-Amro did good work, and I had known that the cyber-technicians in Core did good work, but I had had no idea just how good that work on me had been. Jumping through that window had been a leap of faith – I truly didn't know what I had been given, or what it was capable of, but I also knew I had to do something. I couldn't let him get away like that. I had trained in Core to use my prosthesis – combat, climbing, jumping, and all the rest of it. I had run their obstacle courses so many times I could run them in my sleep. Then they had changed the courses, and I had run them again. And again. They had never seen anything like me, and they were the ones who had made it possible.

Somehow all that was different – the courses were safe. If I had fallen, I would have come away with some bruises, or maybe a sprain if I was really unlucky. And I had fallen, and tried again until I learned how not to fall, even when doing a new course for the first time. At the time I been impatient, thinking all the training was overkill, but that day I put all of my training to its absolute test. The slightest miscalculation would have sent him hurtling toward the ground, and certain death. But he hadn't miscalculated – whatever technological magic had been imbued into those legs, it had given them an almost intrinsic ability to take him where I needed to go.

I would never be helpless, and I would never be unarmed. Hunterwraith had had an advantage the first time we met, he could do things no ordinary human could do, but now so could I. I loved the fact that it was Hunterwraith who had given me the very thing that would allow me to destroy him.

* * *

Noal stepped out into an entirely different place – the third level, a level for the rich and snotty. The consumerism inherent in human nature dictated the state of that place, as brightly lit signs advertised all manner of products and services, no better in quality than anything offered in the lower levels, but better packaged. The streets were full of people, all striving to be first in line, first in money, first in power. As oppressive and poverty-stricken as the lower levels were, this was worse, as the people here were oppressed by choice; shackling themselves to all the things they imagined they should have. In reality, they were just as poor as anyone in New Babylon, but here the administrators maintained a more pleasant illusion.

All told, it had taken Noal less than ten minutes to get here from the streets of level two, but he was sure Hunterwraith was long since gone. Despite that certainty, he refused to give up. If there was a way to find the man, he would have to discover what it was.

Wandering the streets, he found himself accosted by all manner of vendors, from people selling food or clothing, to unscrupulous narcotics dealers; he wanted none of it. As he came across different people he asked if anyone had seen the white-suited Hunter, but no one had any information, or if they did they were not willing to give it up. For an hour he walked aimlessly, getting no closer to a clue. From time to time he had the distinct impression of somebody watching him, but couldn't identify where it was coming from. There was a constant noise of voices all around him, all chattering about nothing he could understand; sometimes he swore he heard a metallic voice, calling his name. He would turn to find the voice and find no one there.

A bright purple and blue sign beckoned to him from across a city square. 'Heaven & Hell Nightclub', it blared gaudily, as flashing lights and a thumping bass-line emanated from inside. There was no lineup outside, so he figured it was as good a place as any to look for information, despite its rather shady outer appearance. He was sure the club was equally shady inside, but he was tired of wandering around the streets, aimlessly. A menacing-looking bouncer stood outside the door keeping away undesirables and taking people's entrance fees.

Stepping over the threshold, Noal was bombarded with a cacophony of light and sound the likes of which he had never experienced before. It was exhilarating in a very foreign way, and the sounds of heavy guitars, drums, and bass made him want to bob up and down and jump. He had never heard this kind of music before, but he thought he liked it. He made a mental note to look up hard rock music whenever he got back home to the Codex. Night club patrons in all manner of strange and absurd accoutrement drank, smoked, and danced all around him, all of them caught up in the same pounding rhythm.

A bevy of scantily-clad women hung around near the bar, brazenly flaunting their dubious assets to the various men (and women) walking by them. They seemed particularly intent on Noal as he strode up to the bar.

“Hey honey, you must be new around here,” said one.

“Yeah,” Noal replied, “First time in New Babylon.”

“You don't want to experience it alone, now do you?” said another.

“Actually I’m looking for somebody specific, a hunter,” said Noal, “I don’t suppose you can provide any information about that, would you?”

“No, but we'd be more than happy to provide you with a date for the evening,” said one beside her.

“How about three for the price of one?” said the last one, seductively, “You guys all love a good deal.” She pushed up her ample bosom, as though trying to be subtle about it. The result looked bizarre and more than a little bit desperate.

“I think I'll pass, but thanks for the offer,” said Noal. He knew what was waiting for him back on the first level, even if he couldn't quite wrap his mind around what to do about her.

Noal surveyed the club’s smoke-hazed dance floor, full of patrons bopping and moving to the hard-edged music coming out of a band of musicians playing drums and guitars – built out of whatever materials were convenient, and easily accessible – who seemed quite serious about what they were doing. Noal had listened to a lot of different styles of recorded music during his tenure at the Codex, but he had never seen actual musicians playing music in a live environment. It was quite exhilarating; he could understand why it had been such a popular pastime before the shift. He half-considered grilling the musicians for information after their set, but realized it would be a fruitless endeavour; they were so focused on playing their songs that an army of white-clad assassins could storm into the club and kill everyone inside without them noticing.

The dancers might have seen something, Noal thought as he stepped onto the floor and attempted – pitifully – to dance along with them. Many of the women dancing wore little more than the trio of prostitutes by the bar; more than a few of them had their eyes on him, he realized, wondering how to use that to his advantage. He hadn’t been pondering it very long when a woman – he wondered if she was older than eighteen – approached him, dancing in a playfully sensual manner as she caught his eyes with her own dark brown orbs. She was one of the scantily-clad ones, as well, which caused Noal some considerable trouble concentrating on getting the answers he needed. As the song continued, he managed to get his mind back on the job at hand.

“Hi there, I’m Noal, from the Codex,” he offered, awkwardly. How the hell do you start a serious conversation that doesn’t involve sex in a place like this?

“Well hello there Noal from the Codex, my name is Mileena, and I love a man in uniform!” she giggled, suggestively.

Noal laughed along with her, hoping he didn’t look too much like a fish out of water. “Hey listen, you look like someone people tell things too, I was wondering if you might be able to help with something.”

Mileena gave Noal an appraising look, up and down, and smirked. “Oh yeah, baby, I’m pretty sure I could help you out with all kinds of things. I could sure a drink though; I’m practically parched!” she licked her lips luridly, for emphasis.

“Your wish is my command,” Noal replied, “What would you like?”

“Mmmmm, how ‘bout an abominable snowman?” she grinned, adding “They always get me in the mood for… mmm… talking.”

“Hey, that’s my favourite drink too!” said Noal, faking as much enthusiasm as he could muster, “I’ll be right back – don’t go anywhere!”

Sidling up the bar, Noal flashed a smile at the woman tending and asked for two abominable snowmen, which seemed to amuse the bar-lady, for some reason. “You look a lot like the last person who ordered one of those; must be a popular drink in the Codex.”

“How do you know I'm from the Codex?” Noal inquired.

“Brown hair, green eyes, nice smile,” replied the attractive bar-maid, “Or it could be the insignia on your cold-suit.” She grinned, passing him his drink.

Noal took a swig of the icy-blue liquid and had a good laugh at his own foolishness, “I'm afraid my powers of perception are rather pale next to yours,” he said with a chuckle, “Thanks for the drink, though.”

“You're quite welcome, my Codexer friend,” she flashed him a sultry smile, “Now why don't you tell me what you're really after?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well it's painfully you're looking for something, aside from a glass to drown your sorrows in, or a badly-dressed, dancing, tart to waste time with,” she explained, “Perhaps I can help you find whatever it is; I hear a lot of things, see a lot of things, if you know what I mean.”

Noal shrugged, “I guess I have nothing to lose by trying, do I? Alright, if you think you can help, I'm looking for a man. A murderer.”

“And what do you plan to do when you find this murderer?” the bar-maid asked, playfully.

“I'm going to make damned sure he never hurts another soul,” Noal was suddenly entirely sober, “I'm going to kill him.”

“Fair enough, what you do is your own business,” she said, also suddenly serious. “Can you describe him?”

Noal nodded, “Certainly – he would tend to stand out in a crowd, I think. I've never seen his face; he wears a white mask and helmet and white cold-suit with combat boots. He carries around a startling collection of advanced weaponry – like stuff right out of one of the old stories – and kills without mercy. Oh, and he can control aberrants, too.”

The bar-maid nodded, knowingly. “You're talking about Hunterwraith, yes? Not the first one I've seen running after that one.”

“You've seen him?” asked Noal, “Recently?”

“All the time.”

“Where is he?” Noal demanded, “Tell me where I can find him!”

The bar-maid looked around briefly, as if to make sure no prying ears were listening in, then leaned in close to whisper in Noal's ear. “He's right behind you.”

Noal felt something sting him on the back of the neck and spun around to see a white-suited shape holding a cylindrical object in his hand. Everything around him started to become a hazy, indistinct blur, as his vision began to narrow. He turned back around, trying to keep a grip on the edge of the bar, to no avail. The bar-maid's silhouette danced in his eyes, and her voice was the last thing he heard.

“Sweet dreams, mister Silver.”